


Pray for Us Sinners

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holding Hands, M/M, Neck Kissing, Nightmares, Pining, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: Three months after the exorcism of Casey Rance, Tomas still has nightmares.
Relationships: Marcus Keane/Tomas Ortega
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2019





	Pray for Us Sinners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dorinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorinda/gifts).



Tomas tried to use the wall to help him stand, but the pain in his broken thigh dropped him every time he thought he had a foot beneath him. “Casey, no.”

“Priest, _yes_ ,” the demon inside the body of Casey Rance hissed back from across the room. She held Marcus by the throat, his feet kicking several inches off the floor. 

“Casey, please. You have to fight the demon inside you. You have to _fight_ it.” He began a prayer and clawed at the wall to try again. “Marcus!” he shouted, to give him strength, ground him, make him aware no matter what he was suffering, no matter what happened to them, Tomas was there with him. 

Casey’s arm jerked, the crack of Marcus’ neck as loud as if inside Tomas’ head. Marcus’ stopped kicking. 

Tomas screamed. 

“Tomas.” Marcus’ voice cut through the roaring in Tomas’ ears, through his own scream, his flailing hands already twisted in Marcus’ shirt. He was sitting up in the bed, clinging to him, his damp face pressed against the skin of his shoulder and the white wife-beater that had gone one too many days without a wash. 

Usually Tomas was more aware of his surroundings and saw Marcus coming before he pulled Tomas into his arms, shushing him and telling him they were safe. They were together, Casey was alive and healthy, it was over. He knew Tomas’ nightmare as well as Tomas now, well enough he probably had similar ones. If not now, before. 

This time he’d been there to catch Tomas as he bolted upright, before his screams sent the night manager to bang on their door. They’d slept in the truck to avoid that for a long time, until the dreams came farther apart, a little less intense. 

A dingy green chair sat in the corner like in so many motels, a blanket tossed on the floor beside it and the Bible Marcus drew in open on the table. The other double bed in the room was still made. He met Marcus’ gaze. 

Marcus shrugged with a lopsided grin. “It had been a couple of days. I was expecting it.”

Tomas let his head hang, then he pulled Marcus back into a tight hug. “When will they stop, do you think?”

“Soon enough, Tomas. Soon enough.”

* * *

Tomas had been twisting in the sheets a full half an hour before he sat up screaming Marcus’ name, screaming Casey’s. He’d anticipated the moment almost perfectly and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. He might have woken Tomas if he thought that would help, but it would only mean another night of broken sleep. When something needed to get out of your system, there was little point delaying it. 

The only thing that surprised Marcus about the nightmares plaguing Tomas since they’d helped Casey three months ago was that he didn’t have them every night. That he didn’t have them when he was awake. 

Marcus, watching Tomas caught in the grip of his dream, had said a prayer or two, but doubted they penetrated the walls of the cheap motel they were in to get anywhere near God’s ears. That was okay. The prayers were more like practice to help him get back into the habit and pleas for his own ears to be strong, to be worthy. 

“Marcus.” Tomas said his name often, and the sound of it was beautiful and terrible at the same time. The weight attached to it was becoming harder and harder to bear. “If-if my faith were strong enough, I wouldn’t have--”

“Stop. Tomas.” He put his hand on the back of Tomas’ neck and squeezed, offering what comfort he could, and waited until Tomas' gaze met his to speak. “Faith and fear, you can have them both. Your nightmares are not a failing. They’re a symptom. You’ve kicked the cold, but the cough hangs on. Only time gets rid of that, my friend.”

“You sound like one who knows exactly what he’s talking about.” Tomas set his jaw in that way he did when he was about to be stubborn, to pick at a bone until it was clean. Trying to get Marcus to talk about his past was a bad habit of his. 

“Oh, see now, runnin' around with me, you’re gettin’ smarter by the day.” He smiled and patted Tomas’ cheek, hoping to turn the conversation away from all the things Marcus knew about nightmares. “Ready for a tuck in? Bedtime story?”

Tomas closed his eyes, but his grin was fond. “I’m not sure I want to sleep again tonight. Not if it means more of . . . that.”

“I’m right here, Tomas. Even if you dream again, I’m right here to help you out of it.”

Tomas mimicked his gesture and put a hand on the back of Marcus’ neck so that they mirrored one another. “Marcus, you being here is all that’s getting me through this.”

“No. Your own strength is doing that.” _And God_ was on the tip of his tongue to say, but he didn’t.

“All right. Then my own strength, and you. Mostly you.” Tomas leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Marcus’. “And if I had to choose just one of those to rely on right now, it would be only you.”

Marcus squeezed Tomas’ neck one last time, then leaned back with a deep inhale, the contact having already gone on too long. “Do you want some water?” He grabbed the bottle he had ready on the nightstand and handed it to Tomas, who took three long gulps. 

When Marcus stood, intent on crawling into the other bed, Tomas’ eyebrows rose. Fear shone out of his eyes. 

Fear gripped Marcus, too, but of a different type. He’d sensed it was coming to this, and he didn’t have the will to refuse to stay in the bed if Tomas wanted him close in case of a nightmare. Or for any reason. Sometimes he thought if Tomas looked at him with his dark, pleading eyes and asked him to flap his arms and fly around the room, he’d find a way to pull it off. 

He picked the blanket up from the floor and lay down in the space Tomas’ made for him by scooting over and rolling onto his side, mercifully with his back to Marcus. Tomas’ whispered prayer prompted him to scoot a little closer and join in, his chin light on Tomas’ shoulder. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

Tomas wrapped his arm around himself and held his hand above his shoulder. He didn’t ask, but he didn’t have to. Marcus took it and held it tight, and let Tomas pull it down to his chest. He had to move closer for it to be comfortable, then he settled in and waited for Tomas to sleep. 

Sleep took them both, faster than Marcus expected. He woke sometime later, the window still dark, to Tomas shifting in the bed but calmly, not in the throes of a nightmare. Marcus had moved closer in sleep. His lips could easily brush the skin on the back of Tomas' neck. Tomas still clung to his hand, with Marcus’ arm draped over him.

 _Like a lover_ came to him unexpected, and he couldn't be sure the voice in his thoughts was his. 

“God, help Tomas,” he whispered, this time in the hopes that it was heard beyond that room. He closed his eyes and let his lips touch, to press a kiss to the damp skin at Tomas’ nape. A shudder raced through him as Tomas, still asleep, leaned back into it. “Help us both.”


End file.
